


Echo onto Me

by Ammeh, Karini



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alpha Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bukkake, F/M, Intercrural Sex, Lucid Heats, Mating Cycles/In Heat, NSFW Art, Omega My Unit | Byleth, Oral Sex, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Scent Marking, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:06:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29254158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ammeh/pseuds/Ammeh, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karini/pseuds/Karini
Summary: Byleth chases down an amazing scent and has the strange urge to rub it over every inch of her body. Despite being unsure where the urge is coming from, she listens to it.(And then Dimitri walks in on her, obviously.)[Art by Karini, words by Ammeh]
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 37
Kudos: 330
Collections: FEOmegirlverse 2021





	Echo onto Me

**Author's Note:**

> A collab for 3H Omegirlverse week! 
> 
> This fic contains NSFW art, so careful if reading in public

Byleth isn’t sure what’s wrong with her.

It’s been going on for hours, an itch in her mind like she’s supposed to be somewhere, doing something. Her limbs won’t keep still—an attempt at grading had her fingers tapping marching beats on her desk, her knees jiggling hard enough to shake the floor. She’d finally given up to take a walk, but it’s not helping at all.

When her room comes back into view, she shrugs and picks up into a jog for a second loop around the monastery, but it does nothing for the strange energy welling up inside her.

Neither does the third loop. Or a fourth, at a run. 

She did, however, manage to make herself uncomfortably warm and sweaty. She’d rather not go to bed like this. (Life at the monastery is spoiling her...she used to wipe down with a dry rag and slip into her bedroll without a care after a day of mercenary work, but now she wants warm baths multiple times a week. She’s getting soft.)

The regular baths are closed at this hour, but she has a key to a smaller bathing area, open to faculty and particularly important knights and students—house leaders, mostly. All the doors to the bathing rooms are ajar, but the lamp in the small central chamber hasn’t gone out yet, so someone must have been here recently.

She’s about to collect her bathing things from the labeled cubby and enter the nearest room when she catches a whiff of...something. 

All at once, the aimless restlessness she’s been trying to shake makes up its mind, and hones in on a decisive purpose. Go investigate.

Is this what they call a hunch? Calling out just in case anyone’s still here, she pushes open the door to the first bathing chamber.

Nothing’s out of place. Towels folded neatly by the door, floor clean and dry, and the tub set into the corner of the room soon to get there. Same with the second one she checks.

The tub is full in the next room.

It shouldn’t be. But the smell is stronger here, this must be it. She’s heard some students chatting about perfumed soaps and bath salts—maybe someone was using something like that and it clogged the drain.

They sounded silly and expensive, but...if this is what they smell like, she understands the appeal. The aroma is wonderful, not nearly as flowery or overwhelming as she expected. It’s subtle and crisp, with a familiar edge that she can’t place. She’s probably smelled it on someone before.

...Anyway, she should fix the tub. Lighting the room, she sets her coat and gauntlets on the bench, prepared for a mess. She kneels by the tub—to discover the stopper is still in place.

Well, that’s an easy fix. She reaches in and feels for the chain, the still-warm water swirling around her arm.

Moving the water makes it smell even better. She brings her hand to her face and inhales hungrily, the smell almost addictive. Her body feels strange, almost floaty.

Wait. Why is she bothering to drain the bath? She’ll just have to fill it right back up again. It’s standard practice at the monastery, but it’s a weird noble hangup. On the occasions she got a hot bath as a mercenary, she was usually topping off someone else’s bath with fresh hot water. Too much work to fill a tub for every person when you’re warming water at the hearth. 

And the water smells so good. It would be nice to smell like that.

Decided, Byleth strips her clothes off onto the bench and steps into the tub. The water is still pleasantly warm, and as she sinks into it the smell wafts up to hit her again. She almost moans. 

Almost immediately she realizes that she didn’t grab soap or a rag to wash herself with, but she doesn’t want to get out of the water to fetch them. She’s just a little sweaty, her hands are good enough. 

But as her palms slide along her thighs, she shivers. Now that she’s naked, something is strangely arousing. Is it the smell? The weird intimacy of using someone else’s bathwater when she’s not expected to?

Whatever it is, her nipples are perking up, warmth simmering in her belly. She brings her hand to her face and inhales.

She’s pretty sure it’s the smell.

Nose buried in her palm, her other hand drifts between her legs. She’s not even thinking about anything in particular and her folds are already slick, her clit swollen with blood. As she drinks the smell into her lungs, she can feel them getting hotter.

Just sniffing at it isn’t enough. Unconsciously, her tongue slips out to graze her palm. 

Her whole body shudders. It doesn’t even taste like anything, but it’s a direct hit of whatever heat the scent is waking up inside her, punched straight to her core. She immediately craves more, laving her palm as she rolls her clit between her fingers. 

When it starts to fade, she plunges her hand back into the water for more before what she’s doing catches up with her. This is weird. Probably unsanitary. 

Her fingertips hover uncertainly over her lips for a moment before she caves and shoves them into her mouth. She’s never felt this aroused before. Doesn’t want it to fizzle out.

Even the inside of her cunt is throbbing hungrily. She traces over her hole—so _slick,_ even with the water. Her fingertips dip inside at the slightest pressure, and she can’t help but push deeper, to feel how smoothly they glide into her.

Her mind starts to picture—someone. A solid body, hands running over her, fingers or a cock greedily tasting the wet softness of her holes. She starts to fuck herself on her hand, pump her fingers slowly in and out of her cunt as she sucks the non-taste of the bathwater off the two shoved in her mouth.

As she rises to meet the rhythm of her imaginary partner, her hand moves fast enough to churn the water over her mound. She’s driving her fingers into herself so sloppily that she’s probably fucking bathwater into her cunt. Maybe she should be worried about that. Maybe she should be worried about the urges that make her keep dipping her fingers in the water and sucking on them. But it’s so _good_.

Cleanliness concerns might not be enough to break the haze she’s fallen into, but the gasp from the across the room snaps her free immediately. The door’s swung open (fuck, did she even latch it?), and Dimitri is standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and frozen. 

Byleth pulls her hands out of herself, completely unprepared to deal with this situation. There’s a sinking in her stomach and heat in her cheeks—she preferred when she didn’t care enough to feel embarrassment this acutely. What should—

Right. She should cover her tits.

It doesn’t matter though, because Dimitri’s belatedly slapped a hand over his eyes, his face bright red beneath it. He’s in a white shirt and trousers, like he was preparing for bed. “Please, I—I am so sorry, Professor, I realized I forgot to drain the tub, I didn’t notice—”

“It’s fine,” she says. “You can uncover your eyes now, I’m decent.”

He makes a strangled noise as his hand drops. Maybe he was expecting her to do more than cross her arms over her tits. 

But as if his feet are acting on their own, he steps forward. “Are...are you—?”

...He must know she’s using his water. “Sorry,” she says. “It seemed silly to waste it. Commoners don’t throw it out after one person.” 

Wait. The smell is his? She sniffs discreetly, and it hits her—good enough that she has to choke down a moan.

Dimitri clears his throat. “Please! No need to apologize. You’re welcome to it. I only hope you can forgive my accidental intrusion.” He inhales deeply, and something shifts at the front of his pants.

Ah. He’s hard.

Face hot, Byleth turns to face the wall. “Of course.”

“I—right. Thank you.” Dimitri hastily backs towards the door. 

She shouldn’t be disappointed.

But he pauses. Reaches for the shelf by the doorway. “Forgive me, but I noticed you didn’t have a towel.” 

Oh. She doesn’t. “Thank you. You can set it down here.”

There’s a strange tension in the room as his footsteps draw close. Out of the corner of her eye she sees him set the towel on the stool by the tub. 

“Do you need anything else?” For a moment his voice is thick, low—and he stammers into an apology without waiting for a response. “Apologies. My behavior right now is inappropriate. I just—” He inhales deeply. “You smell _wonderful.”_

She shakes her head, trying to ignore the electricity creeping down her spine. “That’s just whatever you put in your bathwater.”

Dimitri’s fingers slide into her hair, and carefully move it away from her neck. He’s bending closer. She shouldn’t be allowing this, should shift away and stop whatever’s accelerating between them, but the urge to see what he’ll do next is overwhelming.

He leans into the curve of her neck and breathes her in. “No,” he says, lips a bare inch from brushing her skin. “It’s you.” 

Her body is screaming at her to melt into him.

She chooses to listen.

Her arms fall away from her chest as she relaxes towards him, leaving the line of her body unprotected, visible. 

His gasp is startled and hungry, and he drops to his knees in an instant. With tentative audacity, his hands settle on her bare shoulders. 

When she doesn’t shift away, he grows bolder, nuzzling behind her ear as his hands slide slowly down her arms. “I thought you’d said you were a beta,” he murmurs disbelievingly. “Not that this is… I already wanted you, but I wasn’t prepared for—”

Byleth opens her mouth to say that yes, she is a beta, and ask why he thought otherwise, but—oh.

So this is “heat.”

Dimitri’s fingertips graze over the sides of her breasts, and her skin prickles. “Professor...may I—”

“Mm-hmm.” She leans into him, into the kisses he’s trailing down her neck. 

His hands are hot on her tits, alternately too gentle and too rough, like he’s holding back but can’t quite tamp everything down. She lays her hands over his and guides him into a rhythmic kneading motion, moans approvingly when he starts to extrapolate and build on it. 

He’s always been quick to pick up new forms by example.

Almost as good as the heated touch on her skin is the scent carried up to her nose, the one she’s starting to suspect is _Dimitri_ , not his bath products. She can place it now, has been getting hints of it the last few weeks when he asks questions or comes to speak with her at meals—but it’s never been this strong, has never had this effect on her. Is it just from the heat, or is this another strange thing that’s woken up inside her? Will she feel like this every time she sees him now? Sees others?

Dimitri might know, but right now she doesn’t want to take his focus off rubbing her tits.

Byleth is leaning backwards over the side of the tub to press into his touch, though, and it’s starting to get uncomfortable. Bracing her hands, she lifts herself up to sit on the edge of the tub.

Dimitri’s hands slide down to her abdomen...

...and stop.

He’s just kneeling there, running his hands over her stomach as he kisses her neck and shoulders. It would be lovely except that her clit developed _expectations_ in that split-second where his hands were moving down her torso, and is now sulking about those expectations not being met.

She lays her hand over his, and pushes it down between her legs.

For a moment, he freezes. 

She’s seen it when handing him delicate china to dry during chores, or when he sharpens his quills in class. He’s afraid he can’t trust his body, that he’s going to break something.

With a reassuring squeeze, she guides his hand between her lower lips. His fingers are flat against her clit, and she rubs them in a slow circle—her cunt slick enough to coat his entire hand and still glide smoothly against it. 

The tense line of his body starts to relax, but he lets her keep moving his hand, lets her show him how to rub the side of her clit, how to stroke along her labia to tease her.

“Got it?” she asks, like she just showed him a new maneuver on the training grounds.

“I believe so,” he murmurs into her neck. “Let me try to show you.”

She hands him the reins.

It’s slower than she is with herself, a careful exploration rather than an efficient jog towards the end goal. His lips on her are almost reverent, tongue making tiny flicks against her skin as his kisses grow longer and more open-mouthed. As he works her clit in gentle circles those kisses start to trail down her spine—and she’d never thought of it as an erogenous zone, but the feel of his lips on her back is a flare of heat to her stomach, has her pushing into his hand for more pressure. 

His lips reach her lower back, where she’s wet from the bath, and he jolts. His hands on her tense, stop moving. “You smell like—”

“Like what?” she asks, wiggling her hips in the hopes the hand frozen between her legs will go back to rubbing her clit.

But his hands are already moving, bracing her by the hips as he pours frantic open-mouthed kisses over her hips, her waist, the slope of her ass. “Like me.” He bites at the curve of her waist. “Like we’ve already—”

Without finishing the thought, he pulls at her hips and urges her to stand. 

The moment she’s steady he buries his face in her pussy, nuzzling and inhaling deeply. “You smell like I’ve already been here.”

“You were—just touching me, weren’t you?” 

Dimitri shakes his head, whipping his nose back and forth against her slick folds. “Inside. You smell like I’ve...mounted you. Or what I think that would smell like.” He licks a strip up her pussy and groans. “It makes me—”

Rather than finishing the thought, he goes back for more. Byleth isn’t sure she entirely understands what he’s experiencing, but if it’s making him want to lick her cunt, she’s in support.

And he seems desperate for it. His face presses deeper between her legs with every stroke of his tongue—she can feel his nose shoved into her cunt as he grinds his tongue against her clit. Every moan and gasp seems to egg him on—or maybe that’s whatever he’s tasting on her cunt—his fingers digging into her hips as he futilely tries to lick every drop of slick off her folds.

When his efforts to lick her clean aren’t working, he goes for the source. His tongue plunges inside her, tasting out whatever traces of his scent she’d fucked into herself. He’s so _hungry_ for it. His face pushes into her folds as his tongue strains into her, his nose crammed between her cheeks and his chin nudging against her clit.

She’s still unbelievably wet—she can feel it in the way his face slides against her, in the wet plops of slick and drool dripping to the floor and down her thighs. Her cunt is twitching eagerly as the plush length of his tongue spreads her again and again, his groans vibrating against her inner lips.

His earlier comment flashes into her mind. If he’d actually fucked her, would he be eating his come out of her pussy with the same vigor? Would she feel pleasantly sore right now, stretched and open? The thought of being loose and open, full of him, sends a fresh wave of heat to her groin. With how wet she is, she can almost pretend it’s reality. 

“Lower,” she gasps, her peak taunting her. “Where you were before.”

In an instant Dimitri’s lapping at her clit, his face buried so far into her cunt that she can feel his eyebrows on her ass. His hands keep tugging at her hips, trying to pull her even closer. Over the wet sounds of his face rocking into her, he’s moaning, like he’s getting off from this, like her pussy is the best thing to ever touch his tongue.

Her breath starts to come quicker, dragging harsh out of her chest. With a student’s tongue between her legs she crashes over the peak she’s been teetering on, knees atremble as she fights to remain standing.

“Stop—for a moment—” she gasps between shudders, and it’s a good thing Dimitri is listening carefully, because he’s holding her hips so tightly she’s not sure she could pull away.

He shifts away, but only by inches, poised to dive back in the moment she commands it. She can feel his heavy breaths ghosting over her folds.

What _does_ she want? Her body is fuzzy with release, but the restless hunger hasn’t left her.

She looks down, past her tits, to Dimitri’s lower body framed by her spread legs. His trousers are straining at the front, the outline clear enough that she can tell which way he tucks himself into his underwear. “You can take your dick out if you want,” she informs him.

The noise he makes is much more startled than she expected. “I—you’re under no obligation to—” He stands in a rush, slapping his hands over the bulge in his pants like he just noticed it was there. “I wouldn’t want to tarnish your reputation by—”

She turns to face him, tilting her head. “My reputation? I’m lowborn, I don’t have to worry about marrying into some noble family concerned about bloodlines. ”

“That’s—I hope you will not rule out the possibility entirely, I’m sure there are many nobles who would benefit from a spouse of your considerable wisdom and talent.” He clears his throat, cheeks red. “...Of course, any r— _noble_ worthy of your hand would have full trust in your integrity irrespective of any past dalliances! I don’t mean to imply that you need concern yourself with the arcane rules of noble propriety.”

She’s confused. “Then...we agree there’s nothing to worry about?”

“I...suppose that’s correct,” he says, hands still clutched in front of his groin. 

She nods, pleased that’s sorted. “So did you want to take your dick out?”

His face somehow turns even redder. “If you’d like to—um—see it, I’d be happy to,” he says, unbuttoning his pants.

“I’d like to fuck it, ideally,” Byleth says. “But just seeing it is fine too.”

She hears something rip. A button flies across the room and plinks off the wall. 

“B-be my guest,” Dimitri says, voice strained. 

His pants are on the floor in seconds.

He’s long. Long enough that it takes her a moment to realize how _thick_ it is—and with a slight swell at the base, the skin around it loose and supple like it’s planning to grow even further. For a moment she’s on the verge of backing out, but even as her mind is sounding alarms, her pussy clenches eagerly. It thinks this is a great idea.

The smell that’s been building back up on him while he ate her out wafts up to her nose, and the rest of her is fully on board. She needs that smell inside her, all over her, needs to smell like Dimitri for at least the rest of the week.

Byleth scans the room, and walks over to a likely-looking wall. “Does this work?” she asks, bracing both hands against it and leaning forward.

Dimitri hurries over and crowds up behind her, his dick bumping against her ass. “Yes, I think—” He grasps her hips in both hands and rocks his pelvis against her contemplatively. “This— _mm!_ —seems like it will work.”

“Good.” She reaches back behind her, and lines up the head of his cock with her slick pussy.

He grabs the base of it, and pushes forward, just a little. The head of his cock breaches her, spreading the entrance to her cunt wider than it’s ever been stretched. _Fuck,_ it’s so good. 

But then he pauses. “Are you taking, err...” 

...Shit. 

That’s what heats are _for_.

“...Fuck,” she sighs.

Fingers digging into her hips, like this is taking most of his self-control, Dimitri carefully pulls away. 

To the satisfaction of the part of her that’s screaming in protest, he doesn’t step back—rather, he leans forward, burying his face in the back of her neck. Against her ass, she can feel his hand wrap around his cock.

“Do you mind if I—um, take care of myself?”

Byleth doesn’t mind, exactly, but it seems like there must be better options. Options that still get that scent on her, that let _her_ body be what gets him off.

She reaches between her legs and pulls his cock back down, clamping her slick thighs around it. 

“How about this?” she asks, rocking back against him.

Dimitri doesn’t need any further encouragement—with a surprised moan, his hands settle back on her hips and pull their bodies together. Slick and hot, his cock plunges between her thighs, pushing the soft flesh apart to accommodate its girth.

“ _Professor_ ,” he groans into her hair, snapping his hips against her.

Her pussy’s untouched but her body is alight with the dirtiness of it—Dimitri’s filthy groans, his grip on her hips, the feel of his cock rutting between her thighs. When she looks down she can see the flushed head popping out between her legs with every thrust. _If she were better prepared, that could have been inside her._

Her tits bouncing with his thrusts, a little too harshly, and the skin is begging for touch. “Can you—hold my tits?” Shifting her weight onto one hand, Byleth reaches down to play with her clit. 

Rather than just reaching up, Dimitri leans forward, until his chest is pressed against her back. His arms cross over her chest, pulling her even closer against him as he cups a tit in each hand. Something strange in the back of her mind is thrilled—she’s snug, engulfed, shielded.

The new arc of their bodies angles his cock closer to her pelvis—enough that his shaft is kissing her labia. If she just spreads her lips apart and shifts a little— _nn!_

His cock is stroking against her now, the ridge of the head rubbing over her clit with every thrust. The plump lips of her cunt are splayed wide around his shaft—she can feel her body smearing slick over it, him smearing it back onto her.

The smooth grind is making her hole hungrier, the what-ifs screaming themselves into every rhythmic slide--but the hunger almost makes it better. Amplifies the slight pull of Dimitri’s shaft against her cunt, the jolt of him nuzzling into her neck.

Pumping his hips into the tight confines of her thighs, he starts to rub his chin over the crook of her shoulder, like a cat marking a favorite human. A burst of that _scent_ floats up to her nose, Dimitri-on-her-on-Dimitri, and all feline comparisons vacate her mind.

His moans grow more frantic, and so does the nuzzling, dragging the underside of his jaw against her skin with purpose. His cock is starting to feel different between her legs, an extra swell at the end of each thrust. He’s pushing deeper, not pulling back as far, so that the tip of his cock sticks out between her thighs and that bulge presses against her hole every time he humps forward.

That must be the knot. Commoners love to joke about it, but few people have actually _seen_ one, and she has no idea what one does with it if it’s not stuck inside a hole. If his thrusts are favoring it to leave his cockhead untouched, it must be sensitive. But maybe he’d still like…

Byleth cups the hand that was parting her labia just below her groin, where the crown of Dimitri’s cock can grind into it. 

He groans raggedly and angles his hips upward to hit it more effectively, cock smearing slippery precome onto her palm. The new angle makes the growing knot catch on her entrance—spreading her open, putting pressure on the nerves just inside. It’s a small thing on its own, a tease, but with his hands kneading her tits, his shaft gliding against her clit, the smell wafting over her—she’s close.

“Professor, I—”

Dimitri hugs her tight, squeezes her so close against his body that it’s like he’s trying to pull her inside him. The knot swells between her thighs, his balls twitch against the backs of her legs, and hot liquid gushes into her cupped hand, overflowing her palm to drip down her legs.

As it drips down, Dimitri’s grip on her relaxes, just a little, but he stays pressed against her back, head tucked over her shoulder. He’s rubbing his cheek against hers, and maybe it’s a sex thing but her chest feels so _warm._

The rest of her’s still hot, hungry. Anxiously, she squirms her cunt against his cock, a teasing pressure now too still to bring her off. 

Dimitri groans softly, and his arms don’t release their hold on her, but they go back to massaging her tits. Encouraged, Byleth rocks down faster, grinding her clit against his shaft and her hole against the bulge of his knot. It twitches against her, and another pulse of fluid fills her palm—did he come again, or is this more of the first one?

She can figure that out later, right now she’s _close_. She grinds down hard, harder than she probably needs but so _good_ , digging his knot into her hole enough to stretch the entrance and press into the spongey flesh over her pubic bone, squishing her clit between his shaft and her body. A few wriggles against the too-much-yes-please pressure and her cunt floods with heat, her body trembling in Dimitri’s hold as her cunt pulses slickly against his shaft.

She comes up again to Dimitri cuddling his cheek against her, moaning happily as his cock lets out another gush of come into her palm. (She’s making a mess of her legs, but that’s better than making a mess of the wall.) She realizes belatedly that she clamped her thighs down around his knot when she came, pushing it hard against the tender flesh. The ball of it wedged between her thighs is starting to get uncomfortable.

“Can we shift?” she asks, nuzzling back against Dimitri’s cheek. “My thighs need a break.” 

“Of course!” Dimitri hastily unhands her, careful to avoid smearing come onto her pussy as he pulls back. His shaft bops against her rear, and he doesn’t wrap her in his arms again, but also doesn’t pull away, running his hands up and down the curve of her sides. 

His cock twitches, and with a strained gasp he shoves his hips forward in a seemingly involuntary reflex, grinding his knot into her ass. The shaft of his cock slots into the valley between her cheeks, and a warm spray of come hits her back. 

Byleth really wants to see.

She twists around, letting the dripping head of his cock graze her abdomen as she stares curiously at his knot. Somehow, she’d assumed that it felt bigger than it actually was, but no—the bulge that’s swelled up at the base of Dimitri’s cock is nearly as large as her fist. It looks almost painfully distended—flushed dark with blood, the skin stretched taut and shiny over the engorged flesh. 

How would that have even fit inside her? (Her cunt clenches with interest, apparently happy to find out.)

Dimitri’s balls pull up, and he lets out a slightly pained noise, hand flying to his knot as another spurt of come lands on her stomach. He wraps his hand around it, mostly obscuring it from her view.

Byleth tugs at his wrist, leaning down for a closer look. She wipes her dirty hand off on her hip, smearing even more come onto her skin. “Can I touch it?”

“F-feel free,” Dimitri gasps, letting her pull his hand away. 

Fascinated, Byleth skims her fingertips over the fragile-looking skin. It’s hot with blood, smooth under her fingers.

A needy sound spills out of Dimitri’s throat, and his hips jerk towards her touch. Yet another pulse of come hits her chest and splatters over the underside of her tits.

Feeling encouraged, Byleth rubs the pads of her fingers in a tiny circle, feeling the skin shift over the hard mass below. The knot throb under her fingertips, like it’s hungry for something. More contact? 

She wraps her hand around his cock, just below the head, and strokes. The knot parts her fingers, too big for her hand to fit around, but Dimitri moans all the same, bucking up into her touch. She pumps his cock once, twice more, and by the fourth stroke she’s bold enough to give his knot a squeeze.

Dimitri groans, loud and desperate, and his knot jumps in her hand. A forceful gush of come shoots from the head, sailing between her tits and splattering onto her neck, her collarbone. When she looks down in surprise a second pulse catches her in the face, dripping hot down her cheekbone and landing in her hair. 

A flare of want catches her off-guard. Her face is dirty and suddenly it’s not dirty _enough_. Why hasn’t she shoved it into Dimitri already?

Falling to her knees, she rubs her cheek against Dimitri’s shaft, letting it smear remnants of her own slick onto her face. It smells so _good_ down here—Dimitri’s scent concentrated, overlaid with primal spice and musk. She nuzzles her way down to the knot, uncaring as the sticky head of his cock slides into her hair, lifting it away from her head.

His pubes brush her nose, and she turns, caressing the delicate skin of the knot with her lips. Once again, smelling isn’t enough, and she runs her tongue over the hot bulge of it.

A shudder runs down her spine, a groan bursts from her chest, and she laps hungrily at whatever part of his knot she can reach. The taste on her tongue is just salt and musk, something tangy from the traces of her slick, but her body insists there’s something more there, that this is carrying that amazing smell directly into her veins. She sucks at the swollen skin, eyes closed in bliss.

Dimitri gasps, and a fresh spray of come drips onto her hair and down her back. She heard a joke once, about how much alphas come, but—he has to be almost done, right?

“Professor,” he pants, stroking away a lock of hair stuck to her forehead. “That feels wonderful, but would you mind cupping the other side with your hand? It—can get a bit painful if there’s no pressure on it.”

Pressure on both sides… “I can do better than that, maybe,” she says, pulling her mouth off his knot. Scooting closer on her knees, she lifts her tits in both hands and nestles his plump knot into the valley between them, pressing them tight around it.

Byleth doesn’t even get a chance to lick the shaft before a fat rope of come hits her in the face, dripping thickly down onto the tops of her tits. Dimitri makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, and out of the corner of her eye she can see his fist clenching and unclenching at his side.

“I—fear there are only so many fantasies I can have fulfilled in a single evening before—ah!—my mind will cease to believe this is real.”

“It’s real,” Byleth says, with a kiss to the crown of his prick. 

Dimitri laughs, oddly hollow. “You would say just the same if you weren’t.”

Byleth licks the shaft of his cock—just as good on her tongue as the knot was. “I can give you a hickey after this if you want proof tomorrow.”

“I—” He cuts off. “...Please.” 

She’d initially meant to suck on the head of his cock as she held his knot between her tits, but it’s immediately apparent she underestimated the length. She can just get her lips around the head if she lifts her tits high and strains, but to suck it she’d either have to lift higher and leave the bottom of his knot uncovered, or take his cock much deeper into her mouth than she feels comfortable attempting.

It’s okay. She’s adaptable.

Rather than suck him, Byleth licks at whatever she can reach, rubs her cheeks against his cock, presses sucking kisses along the shaft. Sometimes she slides her tits up and down his shaft, pressing them into a channel for his cock to fuck into before squeezing them back around his knot. He keeps reaching down to touch her, to gently wipe away come from dripping into her eyes or hair from falling in her face, and with the scent of them blending together—of her marking him marking her—it’s almost like floating. Again and again she feels his knot throb between her tits, his balls draw up, hot pulses of come land on her face and chest and hair.

With a last heavy twitch of his shaft against her lips, the hard swollen bulge of his knot finally shrinks, just a little.

She’s a mess.

It feels amazing.

Dimitri’s panting, more than he ever has in training, staring down at her with something like awe.

She gives his cock one last nuzzle, not pulling her tits off it just yet. He _seems_ done, but she’s had about five “he can’t possibly have any more come in there” moments now, so she’s not ready to draw conclusions.

“Good? Or should I keep going?”

Dimitri pushes her sticky bangs reverently away from her forehead. “ _Good_ ,” he sighs.

She nods, but doesn’t pull off yet. It feels nice. To have him snuggled in there, to feel his knot going down in pulses against her skin. Her bangs are out of the way but Dimitri’s fingers are still carding through her hair, rubbing gently over her scalp.

“My apologies. I made quite a mess on you.” His tone is pleased, but like he’s guilty about it.

Byleth hums contentedly and finally releases his cock—the knot small enough now that it could probably pull free from her pussy, if he’d been inside her. “We’re in a bath.” A few minutes ago she would have balked at the thought, but now that Dimitri’s seed is starting to cool and dry on her skin...yeah, she’s fine washing it off.

Dimitri laughs. “Then would you—ah—care to join me?” He stumbles in the middle, like the boldness of what he’s asking just hit him.

Byleth nods, pulling herself to her feet. “Water’s probably cold, though.”

“I...suspect our heads would be better served by fresh water, regardless.” Dimitri clears his throat. “I do apologize for my carelessness in neglecting to drain it. My mind was...elsewhere.”

A lot of noble customs she’s encountered seem entirely frivolous, but in retrospect, maybe there was a reason for this one.

As Byleth pulls herself to her feet and Dimitri works on draining and refilling the tub, it hits her that she just...let one of her students come all over her. Got him there, actually. 

And a future _king_ , for issues that won’t solve themselves in a few months.

She can’t take this back, but...should she cut it off here? Before they both get hurt? But she doesn’t _know_ they’re going to get hurt, doesn’t understand these things well enough. Noble politics, or how all the secrets that were lurking inside her have changed her place in the world, or _relationships_.

“There we are.” Dimitri shuts off the tap and sits down in the tub, parting his legs and turning to her with a smile that welcomes her into his space.

She never did give him that hickey.

Byleth’s rarely had the luxury of hesitating, so she climbs into the bath and sits between Dimitri’s legs with less thought than she should maybe be giving the matter. 

She’s reaching for the soap and rag he grabbed, but he rests a hand on her arm. “Let me?”

She can’t see half the come on herself, so it’s probably a more efficient proposal. And it sounds...nice. So she relaxes, lets herself be touched. The soapy cloth is thin enough that she can feel the imprint of Dimitri’s hand as he gently moves it down her arms and over her back, up her stomach. 

At this point she’s a little surprised he pauses when his hand bumps into the bottom of her tits. She makes a noise of assent, leaning back against him, and he drags the cloth up between her tits, wipes them clean with measured strokes. A lazy heat is budding in her stomach again, but she can ignore it, for now. She guesses the sluggish rise she can feel against her ass is much the same.

“Lean forward?” With his fingers and careful cupfuls of water, Dimitri works the come out of her hair. 

“I think that’s all of it,” he murmurs, settling back down from where he was kneeling to get at her bangs. The silence is comfortable, but starting to strain expectantly at the edges.

Byleth turns around and straddles his lap. 

“I promised you a hickey earlier.”

Dimitri’s noise is eager enough that she doesn’t have to ask if he still wants one. She nuzzles into his neck, just below where his collar will come up, and fixes her lips onto the skin. 

He smells amazing here. And when she sucks, he tastes even better.

His hands fly to the sides of her arms, and his throat vibrates under her lips with a gasp. When she pulls away his cock is poking her in the stomach, and he’s staring at her with something like shock. Except he knew she was giving him a hickey, didn’t he? 

“Sorry, did you want it somewhere else? Your collar will cover it.”

Dimitri starts. “No! No, where you put it is fine! It was just...unexpected.” 

Ah. Maybe he was surprised it turned him on. Something about the conclusion doesn’t sit quite right, like there’s something more going on, but Dimitri gives her that feeling a lot. 

Rather than dwell on it, Byleth picks up the cloth. “You have something dried on the bridge of your nose.” Her slick, probably. 

Dimitri’s eyes follow her as she carefully wipes his face, and the broad planes of his chest that she hasn’t gotten a great look at until now. He keeps touching the hickey she gave him, a flush high on his cheeks. 

When she gets to his dick, he stops her with a nervous chuckle. “No need to worry about that part, I’ll handle it. I...hope you can excuse my lack of self-control.”

“Are you sure?” Byleth cocks her head. “I don’t mind.”

“If you touch me there, I fear I won’t be able to stop my body from—um—knotting again,” he says, head ducked in embarrassment as he gingerly washes the come out of his pubes.

“I wouldn’t mind...but I guess we do need to sleep at some point.”

Dimitri sighs, like she reminded him of something unpleasant. “I suppose.”

“We could...do this some other time, though. If you want to.”

From Dimitri’s stare, you would think she just said something unfathomable.

“Professor, I would happily make love to you every day for the rest of my life,” he says earnestly. 

Now she’s the one who’s staring.

After a moment, Dimitri clears his throat. “Err—sorry, that statement may have gotten away with me a bit. Sylvain has been attempting to give me lessons on conversing with women, which I have done my best to disregard, but perhaps some of his advice slipped through in the heat of the moment. Please, ignore me. It was not my intent to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t.” Although now she’s not sure what part of that statement he wants her to ignore. The exhilarated...fear? intimidation? it initially filled her with has been replaced with a sinking sort of feeling, and she decides that she likes that much less.

“I—Good. I’m pleased to hear that. To answer your question—yes, I would be delighted to do this again.”

So that’s that then. She feels herself smiling a little (it’s still so strange). 

But now they’re clean, and they’ve sorted out what they’re doing after this, and they...should probably part ways and go to bed soon, shouldn’t they.

Few things have ever seemed so unappealing.

It’s in both of their best interests to sleep, though, so she suggests it anyway. Dimitri looks just as enthused as she feels—but he still climbs dutifully out of the tub, briskly toweling off before heading across the room to fetch a fresh towel for her.

She dries herself, and starts to dress with a level of dissatisfaction her mind has previously reserved for cold and muddy clothes.

“I...hmm.” Dimitri frowns at the fly of the pants he’s pulling up around his waist. 

Right. He lost a button. “Will they stay up?”

“I may have to hold them,” Dimitri says. “With luck, I won’t run into anyone on the way.”

“Stop by my room,” she says, pulling on her shirt. “We can take care of it.”

Dimitri follows her to her room, but when she pulls her mending kit out of a drawer, he balks.

“Professor, I thought you were simply planning to loan me a belt...I fear my sewing skills are somewhat disastrous. I would wreak havoc on your needles.”

Byleth holds out her hand. “Give it here then, I’ll take care of it.” Lucky that his pants are black, because the kit’s mostly material for fixing her tights.

“Please, I don’t wish for you to stay up mending my trousers because I’m a fool who can’t control his own strength. I can simply hold them up.”

“Spend the night?” she asks. “And I’ll fix them in the morning. Or you can, and I’ll get new needles. Or you can borrow a belt from Dedue when he wakes up.”

There are a dozen other solutions. This isn’t even a problem that particularly needs to be solved. Both of them are fully aware of that as Dimitri clears his throat and replies,

“Yes, perhaps that _would_ be the wisest option.”

The beds aren’t particularly designed for two people, so they have no reason not to press against each other, her back to the wall and Dimitri tucked against her with her nose in his hair. The nights have been getting cold, lately, and the extra warmth is nearly as pleasant as the thought that her pillowcase will smell like him tomorrow.

“If I wake you up in the night, I apologize,” he murmurs, snuggling back against her. “My dreams can be...unpleasant.”

Byleth hums, hugging him with the arm she has wrapped around his torso. “I’ve never shared a bed. Sorry if I kick you.” 

He laughs softly. “Just avoid my training bruises, if you don’t mind.”

Byleth spends a moment trying to remember where those are before realizing she won’t be able to avoid them in her sleep, anyway. Despite Dimitri’s earlier comment, she’s pretty sure that him spending the night in her room was not, in fact, the wisest option available to them.

But as she slowly drifts off, warmth against her front and Dimitri’s scent filling her nostrils, her favorite student snug in her bed rather than keeping himself up all night again…

She’ll say it was the best.

**Author's Note:**

> Both of us are taking a quick break to participate in Dimileth Hot Flash ([come join us](https://twitter.com/DimilethFever/status/1358438466799951877)!), but there might be a chapter 2 coming...


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